"It puts you in touch with your femininity. Especially American women, we grew up with Reeboks. And belly dancing is extremely feminine. It’s kind of like you can be soft and feminine and strong at the same time," she says.
The art of belly dance was around for the Romans; then it went underground until 19th-century photographers dug it up to titillate European gentlemen. Soon cabaret dancers had incorporated it into their routines, and early movies had jumped on it as one of the hottest things you could put on a screen.
Now, outsexed by the average episode of 7th Heaven, belly dance has recast itself as a holistic exercise. It turns out that, like most enticing things females do, it was performed traditionally for other women at weddings, funerals and during midday breaks from housework. Morocco and Egypt are still the hotspots, with styles including Egyptian/Arabic, Turkish and modern/world.
"I would say in six months you could dance for your boyfriend," Delilah says. You’re better off learning it from her than from trade magazines like Wiggle Hips. Classes run every Thursday at 6:30 p.m. and it’s $15/session.
...While AOL Time Warner talks about media convergence, a guy named Frank Russo has nailed it perfectly with the title of his new film: FrankRussoTV.com: The Movie. Mull that over for a second and wonder why you didn’t think of it.
Actually, the full title is FrankRussoTV.com: The Movie, Episode 1, "How I Got My Wings and Saved the World, the Avenging Angel." But hey. Frank Russo is a gem of Cablevision TV, a New York native whose public access show, movie and website shout out his philosophy: "Peak Performance."
"Peak Performance is–well, let’s say you’re in your car and you get cut off," explains Mr. Russo. "A person who is in their, if I can use the terminology, ‘lower brain’ will get out of his car and attempt to have a physical altercation. A peak performer, if I can use the terminology, tries to go in their ‘higher brain,’ and basically has some control over his or herself."
Peak Performance might just sound like being wimpy, but Frank is devoted enough to it to don angel wings and walk down 9th Ave. preaching to all comers (mostly children). That’s how he got the nickname "Avenging Angel" and his new film.
"It’s like an over-the-top comedy," Frank says. "There’s a woman...well, there’s a couple of women...well, there’s a lot of women in this movie. They’re all after me. There’s one woman. She’s an heiress and she has this mystical key that she puts in the New York Public Library. And it so happens that as I’m walking around (I’m the janitor in a martial arts school), I get the key. And there’s this villainess, she wants to get the key so she can take her army of women and conquer the world and make men her slaves.
"People who see it call it ‘campy.’"
FrankRussoTV.com: The Movie has its inaugural screening this Friday at the New York Film Academy (100 E. 17th St. at Park Ave. S., 674-4300). The party starts at 7 p.m. and Frank is trying to get wine.
...The weekend brings you more movies courtesy of Jane Gang, who celebrates the five-year anniversary of her Pink Pony Cafe Film Nites with screenings/parties on Friday, Saturday and Sunday on the Lower East Side. A London transplant, Jane’s monthly film night caught on in 1996 and is now credited with reviving the local indie indie movie scene, exemplified by Ocularis (70 N. 6th St., betw. Wythe & Kent Sts., Williamsburg, 718-388-8713) and "Film in Void" Wednesdays at Void (16 Mercer St., betw. Howard & Grand Sts., 941-6492).
Jane’s Saturday fete, Highlights from Pink Pony Film Nite, will show 90 minutes of shorts from ’96 to ’98, including Huck Botko’s Baked Alaska (1996) and Douglas Buck’s Cutting Moments (1997). Baked Alaska shows Brooklyn actor-director Botko cooking up a maggot-and-roadkill treat for his mother and feeding it to her. He does this in a GG Allin t-shirt. For real.
Cutting Moments is even sicker, the only one of Jane’s selections that comes with an advisory warning. It’s 23 minutes of absolute gore courtesy of director Douglas Buck and Necronomicon makeup expert Tom Savini. Highlights include a dissatisfied housewife rubbing off her lips with steel wool.
The Saturday screening is at Anthology Film Archives (32 2nd Ave. at 2nd St., 505-5181) at 8 p.m., with $8 admission and an after-party at the old school building on 107 Suffolk St. Just follow the noise; it’ll be on the fourth floor, suite 401, and it’s a good space.
...Or you can get your Saturday dose of offensive art at Abby Gennet’s opening in the Subculture Gallery (376 Broome St., betw. Mott & Mulberry Sts., 965-9613). Ms. Gennet is best known for her set of "Prom Mom" portraits, which faithfully recreate the antics of Melissa Drexler, the New Jersey teen who left her newborn in a trash can back in June of ’97. Gennet has also made shocking and hilarious photo recreations of Abner Louima’s brutalization and the "bad nannies" of the late 90s (drinking, ignoring babies and bringing boyfriends over). She uses herself as a model in most of her work, which would be an annoying conceit if she weren’t so damn hot–check out www.prommom.com to make a judgment.
Abby’s current show concentrates on fetishes, "but it’s not your typical fetish series," she says. "It’s a lot of crazy fetishes that no one has ever heard of."
For example? "Sploshing. There’s actually a magazine called Splosh in England. It’s for guys who get turned on watching women get messy. It’s usually a conservative-type woman, a nurse or a teacher, who puts beans or mud on herself. I used beans... I also did a shot of this thing macrophilia, which is about guys who like to be crushed by giant women."
Abby’s latest art is done in surveillance-camera style–she puts her models in a room, records them on digital video, runs it through her tv and snaps photos with a 35 mm. It’s not my policy to get excited by art, but this woman has herself together. Saturday’s reception runs from 7-10 p.m.; there will be cheap beer during and after, and maybe some action downstairs if you slink in like you belong.
